


Always and Forever

by CeliaBowen



Category: To All the Boys I've Loved Before Series - Jenny Han
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Graduation, Happy Ending, Healthy Relationships, Love, Paris (City), Post-Canon, Post-Graduation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 02:18:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16777684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeliaBowen/pseuds/CeliaBowen
Summary: A look into Peter and Lara Jean's romance after they graduate college. They have more firsts to experience as a couple.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have any rights to the characters or stories created by Jenny Han but I love this world so I decided to have a little fun and write a few snapshots of Lara Jean & Peter four years after the ending of the final book.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

I can’t believe this day is finally here. After four years of studying and learning, the end of an era has arrived. I thought that I would feel a little more morose than this but I’m so excited because there’s so much to look forward to. 

I adjust the full skirt of my lavender A line dress. The seats in the UVA stadium really aren’t very comfortable. 

Peter’s graduation is first. My dad and Kitty are one side of me and Peter’s mom and brother Owen are on the other. 

Margot isn’t here because she’s been living in London with Ravi since she graduated from St. Andrews. She works at Lloyd’s of London and she and Ravi share amazing flat in Chelsea, a ridiculously posh neighborhood in London. Kitty, Daddy, Trina and I visited her last summer. She wasn’t able to take time off of work until my graduation which is three weeks from now. 

When Peter walks across the stage we all jump up and cheer even though the moderator told the audience to hold all applause until the very end. Peter’s mom grabs Owen’s hand after we sit down and then gives mine a squeeze. Her smile is one of pure adoration and pride. 

At first Peter’s mom wasn’t a fan of Peter and I staying together and deciding to do long distance but after our junior year of college she realized that we were in it for the long haul and we’ve gotten much closer.

If I held up a mirror I’m sure that my expression would be exactly the same. Peter hasn’t had it easy in college. He struggled with his courses, keeping up with the intensity of the lacrosse team, and choosing major but he started getting serious sophomore year after discovering that he was good with numbers and he settled on Economics. After many Skype study sessions he ended up graduating with honors. 

An hour later, the love of my life is striding toward us with the confident swagger he’s sported since we were kids. 

His mom and brother are the first to hug him, rightfully so. 

“I’m so proud of you sweetie.”

“Thanks mom.” Peter beams with happiness. 

He shifts and bumps fists with Owen.

Next, he turns to me. Every time I see him I’m reminded of how handsome he is. Even after all of these years he still manages to dazzle me.

“I did it Covey,” he says with a glint in his eyes. 

In response I throw my arms around his neck. He lifts me up on to my toes so that I can get a better grip on him.

“Yes you did Peter K. You’re amazing.” I sigh and lean my cheek on his chest. 

He gives me a final squeeze and lets go. 

He turns to my dad. 

“Congratulations Peter. You’re about to enter into an exciting chapter in your life.”

“Thank you Dr. Covey. I couldn’t have done it without Lara Jean by my side.”

He angles his head toward me and I mouth 'I love you'. 

Finally Peter turns to Kitty. She’s managed to surpass me in height but she’s still the same old Kitten; all spunk and fire. 

“Hey kid.” 

Peter engulfs Kitty in a hug and ruffles her hair.

“Ughh I’m not a kid anymore. But congratulations.” 

Kitty pretends to be annoyed but I know that she still relishes the attention Peter showers her with. 

“Okay,” he states. “Pictures first, then I need to say goodbye to a few professors and friends. After that, let’s meet at the restaurant.”

“Sounds wonderful,” his mom says brightly. “You and Owen get together first Peter.”

An hour later we’re all sitting around the table of Peter’s favorite local Italian restaurant. It’s so cozy with string lights above the outdoor seating where we’re at and tea candles in the center of each table. 

The table is scattered with family style plates that we’ve cleaned out. Even though we were stuffed from the pasta and breadsticks we made room for tiramisu and an out of this world olive oil cake that I added to my mental to-bake list. 

My dad drops his napkin on the table and folds his hands. “So what’s next Peter?” 

“Well, I’m applying for positions as a Financial Analyst in Richmond, DC, Philadelphia, and New York. So now all I can do is continue to apply and prepare for interviews.”

Peter sneaks a glance at me and I smile. The plan is that we’ll make it work but we’re going to be together. No more long distance, so we’re applying in several cities and if one of us gets an offer we’ll decide together if it’s somewhere that we want to live. 

Peter and I say goodbye to both of our families and head to my car. 

“I am so glad that you’re staying in town for the weekend.”

“Same here,” I say looping my arm through his. “My finals are all done so we can just relax.”

We reach my car and Peter gently backs me up so that I’m leaning against the car and rests his hands on my waist.

“Meet you back at the apartment?” 

“You bet.” 

I tilt my head up and he kisses me sweetly. My hands find their way to his sculpted chest and he deepens the kiss, arching me back further. 

I still get lost in the earnest feeling of his lips against mine and the delicious sensations that his hand invoke as they travel along my body. 

After a chaste kiss he lets go and I get into my car. 

Peter doesn’t walk away until I’ve started the engine and locked the door. I sigh internally because Peter Kavinsky is my person in the world. He gets more attentive and kind with age and he’s all mine.


	2. Chapter 2

Pete’s studio is just minutes away from campus. 

After reaching his unit we disentangle our entwined hands so that Peter can insert the key into the door. 

His apartment looks so sad with everything boxed up. I loved visiting him here, I'm really going to miss it. 

It has exposed brick and a great amount of natural light. I helped him decorate. It had minimalist/masculine vibe that I knew he’d love. I even added a framed vintage Fight Club poster.

He drops my overnight bag on the floor and pads over to the couch, flopping down on the pillows. 

I lock the door and move in behind him. 

“I’m so tired.”

“Today was a big day but I’ve got a few surprises before it’s over.” 

Peter’s eyebrow quirks. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yes.” 

I walk over to the fridge and pull out a bottle of Veuve Clicquot that I stashed away before I headed over to the ceremony and two pale pink vintage champagne glasses and a brass corkscrew that I found in a Richmond antique shop. 

I balance it all on a box in front of Peter and then dig through my overnight bag, returning with a small cigar box with PK engraved on the front in looping script.

“Damn Covey, you sprung for the good stuff.”

“I wanted to make sure today was special,” I said as I sat down next to him with his second gift in my lap. 

Grinning, Peter popped the champagne. The sound made me squeal and Peter poured us both generous portions. 

I flung my leg over his as we sat, and took a deep breath. I wanted this gift to be sentimental and the last thing that I wanted was a repeat of Peter’s graduation gift so I took special care to make my feelings as clear as possible. 

I took a liberal sip of champagne.

“Peter. These last four years have been amazing. I know that we had a different plan for how things would turn out but being long distance and going to seperate schools gave us to freedom to become the best versions of ourselves. I’m still me but a tiny bit little less flighty and a lot more confident. You’re still the Peter who captured my heart but over the past four years you’ve grown and accomplished so much and I know that the best is yet to come.”

I open the cigar box and hand it to him. 

He pulls back the lid and sees that the box contains a letter and a watch. 

“This is amazing,” he says as he inspects the watch with a bright smile. 

“Here, let me help.”

I fasten the saddle colored leather band and straighten the face of the watch.   
“I thought it would look great with your suits when you start working.”

“It’s perfect.”

Next he dives in for the letter. Peter always goes for the gift first and then the letter. As he says, they’re the “main attraction.” 

Setting his champagne glass on the floor he begins to read. 

Peter Kavinsky, 

You’ve been my first everything. My first true love, the first man that made love to me, the first person that I trusted with my heart and soul. 

I don’t want you to just be my first I want you to be my last.

We’ve shared so much but we have so much more to experience together. I’m sure there will be a thousand memorable moments, but here are ten things that I can’t wait to do with you. 

Explore Paris together.   
Get hired for our first “big kid” jobs.   
Watch our siblings graduate.   
Say I do.   
Move into our first home.   
Decorate our first home.   
Find our first gray hairs.  
Host our first Thanksgiving.   
Start a family.   
Everything.

Yours Truly,   
Lara Jean Song Covey

By the of it there are tears pooling at the edge of Peter’s eyes. He pulls me into his lap and grabs the side of my face with both of his hands. 

“I love you so much Lara Jean. I want to be by your side for the rest of your life supporting you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Now I’m crying. After wiping the tears off of my cheeks with the pad of his thumb he kisses me so deeply that I feel it in my entire body. Eventually, our foreheads rest against one another as we breathe each other and this moment in. 

“Oh,” I say pulling back. “I have one more gift for you.”

I walk over to my bag and pull out a massage bar that I picked up from Lush and returned to the couch. I turned him around and handed him another glass of champagne. 

“I know today has been intense so I want to help you unwind.”

“Okayyyy,” he tones skeptically. 

“Shirt off first, then close your eyes.”

“I like where this is going Covey.”

I giggle. Same old Peter. 

He pulls his shirt over his head and rub the massage bar between my hands. The friction causes the bar to soften, leaving a generous amount of creamy oil on my hands. 

I set the bar on the ground and softly touch his lower back, pressing the heels of my palms into his muscled back. 

He shivers and I pause. 

“Are my hands too cold.” I’m starting to doubt the idea of sexy massage. Chris convinced me that it drives guys crazy during our weekly catch up call. 

“No, don’t stop. That feels amazing.” His voice is thick with a rough edge. 

Feeling confident I begin to knead his back, paying extra attention to the areas where I feel knots. 

His head is tipped back and I can tell that he’s loving this from the deep sighs of appreciation pouring from his mouth. 

Slowly I glide my hands from the chiseled line of his pants to the top of his back. I placed a kiss in the center of his shoulder blades. 

My kisses continue until I’ve reached his neck where I begin to suck and pull at his sensitive skin and brought my hands around his body to explore his chest. 

“Mmmm Lara Jean.” His hands come to cover mine and they follow my own as they continue to roam over his body. 

My lips move from his neck to his earlobe. I take the soft skin into my mouth and gently bit down. 

Peter groans in response. 

One of his hands reaches around and tangles in my hair. 

My free hand reaches down and pops the button of his fly. 

Sensing what I want Peter tugs his pants down. 

I reach down after he’s settled back into the couch I reach my hand into his boxers. 

The second that my hand grips him he sighs softly.

My hand is still slick from the massage bar making the repetitive path that my hand is charting effortless. 

One of his hands finds its way to the inside of my thigh and he grips it tightly. 

Sensing that he won’t last much longer I increase the speed of my pumps. 

The change in pace coupled with a tug on his earlobe causes Peter to fall apart. 

My name tumbles out of his lips along with a string of expletives. 

Although we’ve been intimate for years now I’ll never get enough of the rush I feel when I see the effect that I have on this man. 

After a few seconds he catches his breath and pulls me around to straddle his lap. 

“You are a goddess Lara Jean Song Covey.”

“You’re welcome.”

I grab his hand and pull him up. 

“Let’s finish the bottle in the bathtub.”

“Another stellar idea. You’re on a roll tonight.”

“Just you wait,” I say with a wink.


	3. Chapter 3

There’s only an hour until we land and I cannot wait to get off this plane. We’ve been traveling for 20 hours thanks to our two connections and I’m officially over it. 

I’ve finished two romance novels (both of which are set in Paris), watched Funny Face, and quizzed myself on the common French phrases that I’ve been studying ever since Peter surprised me with a trip to Paris as my graduation present. 

Peter has his earphones in and is sleeping. He looks so comfy in his matching tracksuit that I almost want to pinch him so that he’s as jittery and anxious as I am to start exploring. 

I force myself to leave him be and pull out another book that I stashed away in my backpack. Before leaving I showed Margot my luggage over video chat. Unsurprisingly, she said that packing five books was unnecessary.

I’m glad that I pretended to take three out and proceeded to repack them as soon as our call was over. 

About 40 minutes later bell dings and audio floats from the perimeter of the plan to our ears.

“Bonjour. This is your captain speaking. We will be making our descent shortly. Thank you for choosing our airline. If you are coming home, nous saluons le retour. If you are visiting, please enjoy your time in Paris.”

Peter nuzzles my neck. 

“We’re almost there Covey.”

I am so giddy. 

“This all seems kind of surreal.”

A few months ago I was at graduation. Leaving school was bittersweet. On one hand I would miss my reading nooks, friends, and the safety of my routines. On the other I’m so proud of everything that I accomplished these past four years. I started a baking club my freshman year and the members promised to keep it going after I left. My sophomore year I chose to pursue a Communications degree once I realized that event planning was the career path for me. However, what I’m most proud of is holding my internship at the most successful event planning agency in Chapel Hill for three semesters. 

Things are still up in the air for me career wise, but I’m feeling hopeful. 

Peter interviewed at Aramark in Philadelphia for a financial analyst position and he found out that he got the job. We’ll be moving in a month and I’ve already started applying for jobs at event planning agencies in the city. 

Even though I was ridiculously happy for Peter I was a little apprehensive to move even further from home until Peter and I drove up and I won over by the charm of Philly neighborhoods like charming Old City and quirky South Street. It’s quiet but still has a lot going on. It’s also a short drive away from NYC. Plus my dad reassured me that Philly is just an hour flight away and they would visit often. 

After we land we depart the plane and begin walking toward baggage claim. 

Even the stores at Charles de Gaulle seem fancier than the ones in the States. 

When Peter sees me veering toward a store selling embroidered berets he grabs my hand pulling me back on track. 

“Not so fast Covey. You packed like 50 of those of things.”

“I packed 5 thank you very much. And this one would actually be French.”

“I’m sure we’ll spend plenty of time shopping.”

“That’s true.” I concede. 

“Let’s grab our bags and hit the streets.”

Once we’ve grabbed our luggage off of the carousel we walk out into the street.

“Even the air smells special,” Peter’s tone is light and joking. 

“Smells like regular old air to me,” I reply. 

“Nope, sniff again. There’s a faint scent of baguettes and macarons in the air.”

I make a show of breathing the air in. 

“I think everything about this city is going to extra special Lara Jean.”

My heart swells because he knows that I’ve been dreaming about visiting Paris ever since I could spell macaron and wants to make this trip everything that I’ve imagined. 

“I think you’re right Peter K.”

He leans down, grasps one side of my neck and captures me in a passionate kiss. 

I’ve got one hand on the pale pink suitcase that my grandmother ordered from Korea as a graduation gift and I reach up to cover the hand that he has on my neck as he deepens the kiss, plying my lips open with his own. 

Suddenly we’re jostled and I remember that we’re on the sidewalk of a crowded airport and not in our own little world. 

I turn and a man walking by with a carry on bag gives us a dirty look. 

“Pardon,” I say meekly. 

He shakes his head and continues to walk. 

Peter smirks at me not even a little flustered.

“Our cars almost here,” he says. “I called it while we were at baggage claim.”

Shortly after, our car pulls up and Peter loads the trunk with our bags and we both slip into the car. 

“Bonjour,” the driver calls out jovially. 

“Bonjour,” I reply. 

“Are you honeymooning?”

From Peter’s amused expression I can tell that he’s about to play along so I beat him to it. 

“No, we’re just taking a post-graduation trip.”

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” I reply. 

He zips off and we’re moving through the beautiful streets of Paris. 

“The architecture is so amazing here,” I breath.

It’s old, regal, and I try to take it all in as we zip through the city. 

Peter squeezes my hand and I turn to him. 

“Where is the Airbnb?” 

“The 9th arrondissement,” I reply. 

“That’s a great location,” the driver tones in. “You’ll be near Sacre-Coeur, the Moulin Rouge, and many theaters and operas.”

“All of which are on my list,” I say to Peter. 

We pull up to the apartment and bid the driver goodbye. It’s nestled above a cafe and I pull up the directions to access the staircase on my phone. 

“Food is right downstairs. Good choice Covey.”

“Thank you very much.”

Peter got a great deal on our flights by following one of those sites that sends alerts about cheap international flights but I insisted on covering the Airbnb. 

“You go ahead.” He motions toward the stairs. “I’ve got our bags.”

I charge ahead and when we reach the end of the halway I slide the key in. 

Once I walk in I squeal. 

“It’s just so French!” My voice is teeming with excitement. 

Peter moves in behind me and closes the door. 

The decor is chic yet cozy with hints of lavender among the earth tones. There’s so much natural light. Since it’s a corner apartment, it has a rounded window in the corner with a bench below that is stacked with pillows. 

It isn’t huge but it’s enough space for the two of us. A one bedroom with a small kitchenette. 

I poke my head into the bathroom and see that there’s a beautiful claw foot bathtub. 

“I’ll run us a bath so that we can wash the layer of airport off,” Peter states. 

“Sounds perfect,” I say. 

While he’s running the bath I begin to organize our room. Pulling out clothes from both of our suitcases and hanging them up. 

I hear Peter call out to me. “So what’s on the itinerary for the next four days?”

I pull out my floral notebook and move into the doorway of the bathroom. 

“Today we have the Eiffel Tower and the catacombs. Tomorrow is packed. We’ve got the Louvre, Notre Dame, and the Arc de Triomphe. After that we’ll head back to our side of town to see the Moulin Rouge and Sacre-Coeur. Day three we have Versailles and the opera. Day four we have the morning to pack and we’ll head to the airport around 3 for our flight.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re great at planning Covey?”

“Maybe I should make a job out of it,” I joke. 

“Come here,” he says as he turns the water off and his voice takes a deeper tone that flows from my ears down to my toes. 

He plants a soft kiss on my lips and then begins to undress me starting with my oversized sweatshirt and then moving to my leggings. 

“Show me yours,” I counter. 

Never one to turn down a challenge, he pulls his hoodie over his head and makes quick work of his sweatpants and boxers. 

I marvel at his chiseled body as I unfasten my bra and pull down my lace panties. 

“My girl is so sexy,” he breathes. 

Peter steps into the bath, full of bubbles and steaming water, and sits holding out a hand for me. I take it and nestle into him, resting my elbows on his knees. 

“Wait a minute.” I reach over into my bag and pull out a flamingo printed shower cap and tuck my hair away in it. Yesterday was wash day so I want to preserve my hair a little longer. 

He chuckles as he does every time I wear it and plants a kiss on my cheek.

“Still sexy,” he says in an amused tone. 

“You boys don’t know how easy you have it. Washing long hair is an ordeal.”

Peter doesn’t reply. Instead he grabs the loofa out of my toiletry bag next to the tub and dips it in the water. 

Slowly he begins to slide it across my body. 

“Mmm that feels great,” I say. 

He continues until all of my body has been scrubbed and then I take the loofa from him. 

Turning I say “returning the favor,” and he smiles. 

I chart the same path across his body but I’m feeling a little mischievous so I spend a little more time than necessary on his lower stomach and inner thighs. All the while looking directly into his now-hooded eyes. 

“All done,” I say innocently. 

“You’re a little minx,” he replies standing up. 

We both towel off and he dons one of the robes hanging on the back of the bathroom door.  
“I’ll be waiting in the bedroom.” 

He leaves, knowing that I moisturize my skin from head to toe and perform my skincare routine after a bath. 

After I finish lathering my skin with a luxurious cream from L’Occitane that Margot bought for me, I walk into the bedroom and find Peter scrolling on his phone. 

“I found the wifi code,” he says. 

I snuggle into him and his arms surround me as if by instinct. 

I look up at him. 

“Thank you for planning this.”

He grins, obviously pleased that I’m pleased. 

“I knew I made a good decision when you gave me that letter for graduation. I did good huh?”

“Yes you did. You know me so well,” I said a little amazed at this simple fact. 

I lean up and kiss him until we’re both struggling for air. 

I capture his full bottom lip between my teeth and pull, earning a deep growl.

He flips me over and begins pushing the tie on my robe aside. 

He tosses his robe onto the floor and I slide my arms out of the soft terry cloth fabric. Now there’s no barrier between our bodies and I shiver from the contact. 

I run my hands along his back he kisses me from my neck to my inner thigh. I fist my hands in his hair and begin to running my hands through his curls. He moves closer to my center and pushes my thighs apart. When his tongue touches my sensitive flesh I call out his name. 

He moans, loving the sound of his name of my lips. 

After a few minutes I knew I wouldn’t last much longer. 

“Peter. Ahhhh. I need you. Please.”

At that, he lifts his head sporting a triumphant smirk. 

He positions himself above me and I reach down and guide him inside me not breaking eye contact. His eyes flutter closed and he begins to move slowly, like we have the rest of our lives to take one another to bliss.


	4. Chapter 4

“I can’t believe we’re already on our third day,” I say sullenly, popping a piece of my chocolate croissant into my mouth. 

“I know, it’s really flown by.” Peter spears his fork into his omelette.

We’re sitting in the cafe below our apartment. We just got back from Versailles which was beautiful but tiring. 

“What’s been your favorite part about Paris?” I ask him. 

“Hmmm probably the fact that you can get breakfast food all day long.”

“Peter,” I chastise. 

He chuckles, “probably the catacombs. They were kind of creepy but really cool. Seeing the Eiffel Tower all lit up was pretty dope too.”

“I knew you’d like the catacombs.” 

It was a little morbid in my opinion but I wanted to make sure we did things he enjoyed as well. 

“Oh and spending every night with my super hot gf. How about you?”

“The park we strolled through, Place des Vosges, after we happened upon Victor Hugo’s house was beautiful. The Louvre, of course, was amazing. There were so many iconic works of art. I also found this amazing beret in that thrift shop near the museum.” I point to the pink beret resting on my head. It’s made of a fluffy chenille fabric and spotted with pearls. “Oh and there was the bakery with the macarons that we found on the way to Sacre-Coeur. We have to go back to get some to take home for everyone by the way.”

I’d made sure to get everyone a gift in the first two days but a little something extra for them couldn’t hurt. 

“There have been so many amazing moments I don’t want it to end.” 

“Hey, it’s not over yet,” Peter says. 

“You’re right we still have the opera tonight thanks to the tickets that my dad and Trina gave us.”

“It’s going to be one for the books,” he says. 

“Ever the optimist,” I reply. 

He just smiles and finishes his omelette while I sip my cafe au lait. 

Three hours later we’re sitting in orchestra seats at Palais Garnier. The inside of the opera house is like nothing that I’ve ever seen. The gilded walls are as ornate Versailles but it has a warm, cozy feeling that I can’t get enough of. Above us, the domed ceiling is adorned with an intricate fresco. 

The opera being performed tonight is Tristan und Isolde. The opera is a tragedy centered on the love story between Tristan, a Cornish knight and Isolde, an Irish princess who is betrothed to another man. 

I am mesmerized, even shedding a few tears during the performance. I dab at my eyes carefully so that I don’t smear the mascara and smoky eyeshadow that I applied. 

Peter is paying more attention to me than the opera. I notice him glancing at me throughout the performance. 

The third act of the opera comes to a close and the patrons around us begin to file out. I’m starting to gather the skirt of my off the shoulder silk gown when Peter puts a hand on my knee.   
“Let’s wait until it’s less crowded.”

“Okay.” I smooth the periwinkle floor length skirt of my dress down and settle back into my seat. 

“Have I told you that you look divine tonight?”

“Only about four times. But hey, I’m not complaining. You’re looking pretty dapper yourself.”

It’s true. He’s so handsome it hurts. His hair, usually cute and unruly, is parted on the side and smoothed down. The look is made complete by his perfectly fitted tux. 

I loop my arm through his and rest my head on his shoulder, careful to not mess up my intricate braid. This summer I made Kitty teach me how to do a variety of braids. I’m sad that I don’t have her around to do them for me, but I’m glad that I know how to do it myself. 

After a few moments puts his hand under my chin. 

“It’s cleared up, let’s head out.”

He rises and holds his hand out to me. 

I take it and we make our way through the aisles. When we reach the center of the grand staircase he stops gently pulling me to a halt.

“What’s wrong?” His expression has turned serious. 

“Nothing at all,” he replies. “These past few days have been some of the best I’ve ever had. Waking up next to you and going to sleep next to you has given me a glimpse of how perfect it would be to spend every single day with you. So much is changing but no matter what happens I know one thing. I want you by my side always and forever.”

My heart flips with joy. 

Then, bathed in the warm glow emanating from the candelabras lining the walls, he bends down onto one knee and I gasp. 

He reaches into his suit jack and pulls out a small velvet box. 

“Lara Jean Covey Song.” His voice begins to quiver in a very un-Peter like way and tears begin to stream down my cheeks. “You are the love of my life. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife.” 

“Yes, Peter Kavinsky. My heart is yours.” His words echo in my head and I repeat them. “Always and forever.”

He smiles and I tear my eyes from his face to look at the ring that he is sliding onto my finger. 

It takes my breath away. In the center of a dainty rose gold band, a single diamond sits sparkling and bright. 

“It’s beautiful,” I say tears still flowing. 

“Not as beautiful as you.”

“You’re going to spend the rest of your life charming me aren’t you Peter K.”

“I’m sure as hell going to try,” he says and then he kisses me.


End file.
